


Bar Back Alleys and Brown Eyed Boys

by SuperWoman0124



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Bottom Sam, Eventual Smut, Feels, First Kiss, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, Fluff and Smut, Hunt Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Porn With Plot, Rimming, Sam takes a vicodine, Top Dean, Wincest - Freeform, extensive use of the word fuck, sam gets hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-30 13:32:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10877802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperWoman0124/pseuds/SuperWoman0124
Summary: Sam is down for the count. Dean helps him into the tub. Chick flick moments ensue. I totally suck at summaries.





	1. God Damn Morality

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting ANYTHING for almost 2 years. I have a 3 year old and a 3 month old and things have been CRAZY. Alas, I am now a stay at home mom and can now devote all my spare time to making my favorite characters do naughty things. 
> 
> Found this little plot bunny half written from like, two years ago in my "Fun Stuff" folder. Figured I'd finish it! ~~This fic is unfinished as of yet,~~ but if I don't post something now, I'll just keep editing until I die at my desk. Enjoy, my lovelies! 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> ***** Just a quick non-con warning. Technically, due to Sam's inability to consent due to him being stoned, I have to include a non-con warning for those of you who don't like that. However, due to Sam's over-enthusiastic agreement and his part in initiating the contact, "consent" is a toss up. Because of that, I won't include it in the tags. If this kinda stuff squicks you, please don't read it. And please, be smart, guys. Don't assume that just because someone is stoned, it's considered consent.*****

"Aggg!" Sam snapped back against the warehouse wall as the beautiful porcelain Japanese woman slammed him back. He felt a 'pop' and knew, he just knew, that she'd dislocated his shoulder. She slid her cold hands up to his throat and squeezed. 

 

So what's that now? 

 

Dislocated shoulder, probably a few fingers, knee, most likely his left leg. All he knew was being the distraction sucked while Dean struggled out of his bonds. 

 

Hold up, _**rewind.**_

 

They're in Oklahoma. Chasing a series of attacks on rich guys. Like.. Really rich guys. 4 of them within 6 months. The kind of asshats with 13 houses and 2 Ferraris. The one maid said she found fine red hair all over the house but the master hasn't had a cat in 6 years. 

Kitsunes have fox tails. Big furry ones. 

 

Okay, _**play.**_

 

 

"Agggg!" 

 

The Kitsune loosened her grip around Sam's throat to turn and see the bloody, but finally standing Dean. He raised his fist to reveal her 'hoshi no tama' or star ball tight in his grip. Her eyes lit up like a cat with a yarn ball. Her sacred item. Her guarded treasure. Tight between a mortal's hand. 

 

She instantly sunk to her knees and muttered Japanese. Dean heard her sobs. 

 

"Please.." Finally, some English. "Please. I will do what ever you wish. Do not drop my item, sir." 

 

She bowed at his feet, shaking her head violently. Begging. 

 

Dean had never had anyone beg before. He was only _slightly_ enjoying it. 

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~ 

 

"Wish we didn't have to let her go." Dean wrapped his arm around Sam, and helped him limp from the car. He stood Sam up against the impala and took the pillow out of the back seat. Sam groaned as Dean put his arm back around Sam's dislocated shoulder to lift his tall ass into the hotel. 

 

"I gotcha', you big baby." 

 

Dean fumbled the key into the locks and laid Sam down carefully on the sofa. Dean stared Sam up and down and realized how bad he was. Yet, here Dean stood. One swollen eyeball and groggy from blacking out. Sam was in pain, Dean could tell. Sam squirmed. 

 

"Lemme check you out." 

 

Dean kneeled before Sam and pulled on the button of his jeans. Sam went to stop him and looked up at the swollen eye. Sam places his hand on Dean's eye and strokes his thumb across the black center. 

 

"You alright?" Sam says lightly through labored breath. 

 

Dean pulls away. 

 

"Dude, don't make this weird." 

 

Dean continued to tug at the weary button once again, this time snapping it with experienced force. 

 

Sam hissed at the pressure to his groin. 

 

"Easy!" 

 

Dean shook his head and let out a subtle laugh. 

 

"Alright, alright. I'll be easy on your girl parts." 

 

Sam laid his head back and clutched the edge of the couch with both hands. Oh yeah, this thing was gonna hurt. He then recoiled in pain as a tremor shot up his right arm. Oh yeah, broken fingers. Sam held the broken pointer and middle finger to his chest and gave a slight nod to 

Dean. 

 

Dean delicately pulled the zipper down and tucked his fingers under the waist band of Sam's faded jeans. Sam sucked in a deep breath and held it. 

 

Dean looked up at his positioned brother and knew what to say. 

 

"Band-aid or slow?" 

 

"Ughhh." Sam's head spun. "Slow." 

 

"It's _your leg,_ dude." 

 

Dean pulled the jeans down with ease down to his waist. Over his hips, revealing the teal boxers Sam sported underneath. With great ease, he slid them down further, hearing Sam's gasps and groans. He hissed every time Dean had to get up and go lower down his leg, readjusting himself to go as slow as possible. It finally got to the point of his knee and Sam started breathing quickly. 

 

"Agg! Band-aid, band-aid!" 

 

Dean heard the calls and pulled the jeans, carefully and as quickly as he could. Dean's eyes grew wide as he saw the purple knee before him and Sam's head fly back and hit the headrest. 

 

"'Sit bad?" 

 

Dean looked up and down at his little brother, strong muscles and calves, tensed and sweating, resolved to a ten year old with a boo-boo. 

 

"Sorry to say it, kiddo. But, yeah.. Yeah, it's bad. I gotta go out and get supplies.. Um.." Dean stopped and wiped the sweat beading down his forehead that he didn't realize was there. He licked his lips nervously. "I gotta take your shirt off first and get you into bed." 

 

Sam winced at the pure thought of simply moving. 

 

"Mmkay." Sam laid his useless right arm across his face and covered his eyes. He sat up and saw his knee. He almost fainted. 

 

Even though it was one of Sam's favorite shirts, they finally opted to cut it, seeing as how his collarbone was probably broken. Dean slid his arm under Sam's good arm and let his bad leg drag while he lifted him to the bed. Dean peered down at the toned stomach and hitched a breath. Sam was tan with a flat stomach. Dean felt himself breathe out. It was difficult to lift him; but something about this act.. Something about lifting up his baby brother, into his arms and cradling him made Dean's blood burn with excitement. Being this close to Sammy and smelling the sweat, gun oil and old books made him weary in his steps. He finally dropped him lightly into the bed, and Sam curled into a ball. 

 

The motel's scratchy sheets bothered Sam's naked flesh, but he was in too much pain to notice. He saw Dean stare him down and was noticeably embarrassed, shying himself away. 

 

"G'night, Dea'." 

 

"Night, Sammy. See you soon." 

 

Dean paced the pharmacy. He rubbed the stubble on his cheeks furiously, trying to figure out what the best thing for Sam was. Pain relievers, fever reducers (just in case), bandages, cast supplies, splints, a set of crutches sat in the cart in front of him. 

 

He went up to the back counter and talked the very beautiful pharmacist into Vicodin. 

 

"Will that be all..." The cashier scratched his stubble and looked down at Dean's fake identification. "Special agent Zulu?" 

 

"Yes, sir." 

 

His drive back was unbearable. His heart wouldn't stop thundering in his ears. As he drove, he thought back to that feeling he got seeing Sam in so much pain. Seeing his naked body yielding to him. He quickly shook it off and gripped the wheel tighter, not letting the tent in his jeans go noticed. 

 

 _"You're sick, Dean. Don't even start that again. He's your brother, damnit. It's not gonna happen. Stop thinking like that."_

 

Sam was sleeping when Dean came back. He hated to wake him, but it needed to be done. 

 

"Sammy..." Dean lightly shook Sam on his uninjured shoulder and Sam rolled over. 

 

"Dean?" 

 

"Yeah. Com'on, we gotta get you into the tub." 

 

Dean pulled the covers back and Sam opened his eyes. He rubbed them with his closed fist. Dean went to latch his arm underneath Sam's arms before he noticed that Sam's boxers had an 8 inch lift in it. 

 

Dean blushed deeply before lifting his little brother's hips and pulling the boxers off. Sam looked down nervously and covered himself up with his good hand. 

 

"Sorry.. Happens, y'know?" Sam said sheepishly. 

 

"Yeah..." Dean thought back to his own issue in the impala, and looked away coyly, deciding to play down to save Sam's modesty. "Sure." 

 

He successfully lifted Sam and carried him to the tub. He winced when Dean set him down and Dean reached over his giant legs to turn on the warm water. 

 

After being satisfied with the temperature, Dean left the bathroom, found the pharmacy bag and pulled out the Vicodin and a bottle of water from the fridge. 

 

"Take this." Dean said holding out the pill to Sam. Sam took it with his good hand, took the pill and swallowed some water with a nod. Sam left his bad arm resting on his fully erect cock awkwardly and leaned forward to turn off the hot water. He instantly regretted it, his possibly bruised rib throbbing pain throughout his body. Dean pushed him back and looked away, trying to respect Sam's space. 

 

"Dude, it's okay." Sam huffed a pained and light chuckle. "You've seen me naked like, a hundred times." 

 

Dean stroked his own overgrown stubble with the free hand that wasn't balancing him on the edge of the tub. 

 

"Not like this, Sam." 

 

It was awkwardly quiet until Sam cleared his throat. 

 

"Damned fox demons, huh?" Dean chuckled awkwardly as he found a washcloth and blotted Sam's injured knee. "They sure put up one hell of a fight." Dean's hands were focused, soft and gentle on the open wound, but his eyes were wandering elsewhere. Dean scaled Sam's body and landed back on his brother's flaccid cock, tight round balls and the small patch of hair just above it. 

 

Sam giggled, the Vicodin was kicking in. Sam never did have any tolerance for pain killers. 

 

"Why d-don't you just admit it?" Sam's eyes rolled to the back of his head. "You want me." He sighed and giggled again. He rested his head on the back of the tub and relaxed. 

 

"Yeah, yeah, Shaddup." Dean laughed along. 

 

Dean tried his best to ignore the stoner, but for some odd reason he couldn't get the thought out of his head. 

 

Dean moved the washcloth up onto his chest and readjusted his knees closer. He slowly pulled the cloth between Sam's pecs, stopping to focus on each nipple. 

 

"W-what..." Dean inhaled deeply. "What if I did?" 

 

Sam's head shot up. His eyes were blown wide. Immediately they snapped shut with the pain in his head from moving so quickly. 

 

"Wai-what?" Sam laid back and clenched his eyes shut. 

 

Dean chuckled. 

 

"You know I'm not into all this.. Chick flick shit, but fuck, Sammy..." Dean exhaled loudly and diverted his attention to washing the blood off of Sam's clavicle. A safe space without distractions. "Seein' you, tonight, like this? Protecting me? Life is short. and I- uh- I..it means more to me than anyone I've ever banged." 

 

Sam giggled. "You mean any _girl."_ Sam raised a floppy finger and pointed it in Dean's direction. 

 

Dean lowered his head. Was he about to cross this line with his brother? After he knew about the countless brown haired, brown eyed men he'd fucked in bar back alleys, would Sam react the way Dean had always thought he would? 

 

"Nah, man. I mean, any _one."_

 

"You mean- _oh._ Oh! Guys, too. Yeah." Sam thought momentarily, and chuckled. "That explains a lot." 

 

"What do you mean?" Dean splashed some water at Sam's face, his smirk spreading to the edges of his face. 

 

"Why I'd b-be in bars with you and you-you'd just.." Sam raised both arms this time. "disappear. and you'd come back so... defea-def..." Sam giggled. "Wait, what's that word?" 

 

"Defeated?" Dean scrubbed his forehead and ran the washcloth back down Sam's arm, the suds building. 

 

"Yeah. I always thought you'd lost at pool, or some bar fly saw through your fake badge." Sam looked lost in thought, staring off into space, pupils blown wide, giving way to the bright burnt auburn of his iris. Sam scratched his head lazily, his eyes going to Dean like needles, face serious and ungiving. "So you like, love me?" 

 

"Well, yeah. I thought that was pretty obvious." 

 

"You know what I-I mean." Sam smiled, the edges of his lips picking up his laugh lines, white teeth peeking through as he rested his head back on the edge. 

 

"Yeah. I-I do." Dean snorted through his nose, rubbing the back of his neck. 

 

Sam chuckled, and began to sing. Badly. 

 

 _"Sammy and Dean, sittin' in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-"_

 

Dean moved closer and roughly grabbed Sam's cheeks with one hand, pulling Sam into a quick, tense kiss. Dean pulled back fast as lightning and the blush spread across his face as he picked the washcloth back up. Sam was still stuck, leaning forward, lips puckered, and his eyes pinched shut. Dean picked a random spot on Sam to scrub, which just so happened to be his elbow. 

 

When Sam finally came to, he blinked his surprise and laid back. 

 

"Y-you kissed me!" Sam giggled, raising his hand from under the water. He stared at his fingers, the shrunken skin becoming fascinating. 

 

"Damned right I did. Knew it would be the only thing that shut you up." _'That's not why I did it.'_ His subconscious screamed out at him. Dean's tongue darted out to his lower lip for the briefest of moments and all he could taste was Sam. 

 

"That was a total chick flick moment!" Sam looked (what he thought was) seriously at Dean. 

 

"It was not!" _Was, too._ Dean was fighting with his inner self, trying to keep things light with his stoned baby brother and it was all just too much. 

 

"Alright, you know what? Let's get you out of this tub, Courtney Love." Dean reached between Sam's legs to unplug the tub and felt an urgent hand pulling his face toward Sam. 

 

Before he could blink, Sam was pressing his lips into Dean's. An awkward closed mouth kiss became a fevered open mouthed one, Dean revering in the feeling of Sam's soft lips against his rough ones. Sam's tongue was insisting, pressing when Dean's mouth closed, and Dean let him in. The heated muscle was silk against Dean's, twisting and retracting as Dean raised his hands to cup Sam's cheek. Dean let out a small sound, a half quiet moan and half realistic relief that this was finally happening. The smooth, shy kiss became emboldened by Dean's insistence, pushing Sam's head back to rest against the cool white porcelain wall of the tub. 

 

Dean could feel lightning striking his spine and his ribcage lit up. His heart was thundering in his ears and he pulled away to gasp for breath. With his hold still on Sam, he rested his forehead against Sam's head, catching his breath, and waited for Sam to open those gorgeous auburn eyes. 

 

When Sam finally did, his pupils were stretched wider than before, reminding Dean of the vicious drug running through Sam's system. 

 

"We shouldn't be doing this." Dean couldn't believe those words just left his mouth. 

 

God damn his righteous morality. 

 

"W-why?" Sam huffed, finally catching his breath himself. "'Sit cause we're brothers? 'Cause Dean, I don't freaking care-" 

 

"Nah, It's cause you're as high as Willie Nelson, dude." That made them both laugh, the booming sound echoing off the thin white tile of the room. Dean tightened his hold of Sam's face and licked his own lips. 

 

He may never get a chance of tasting Sam again. 

 

Dean reached under Sam's back and laced his arm around him, beginning to lift him up. Sam grabbed hold of the towel rack and stood, hissing when he put pressure on his left leg. 

 

"'M not that high." Sam's eyes were red, wide and bloodshot, and Dean gave that a laugh. 

 

"Dude, you just pulled yourself up with your broken collarbone." 

 

Sam looked at his arm, bruised and battered, mouth open and slack jawed. 

 

"Oh." When Sam stood from the water, his body was glistening with droplets of clear liquid that Dean wouldn't mind licking from his body. 

 

"Oh is right, kiddo." Dean refocused his attention, snapping himself out of it, and focused on the look of pain on Sam's face. Sam's cock was forceful, standing tall and proud through the pain. Dean thought to himself, at least he wasn't the only one turned on.


	2. Forever the Martyr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean attempts to convince himself that Sam really wants him. 
> 
> and the build-up begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sex next chapter! I promise. No more teasing.

They limped to the bed, Dean carefully avoiding his brother's now obvious hard-on, and Dean carefully placed his naked brother back into bed. 

 

Sam covered his eyes with a limp forearm and hissed when Dean placed his legs up, the purple knee glaring back at him, a constant reminder of how he'd let his baby brother get hurt. 

 

"Shouldn'ta let that fox bitch go." Dean grumbled, returning to his pharmacy bag to get a sling and the casting kit. He pulled each item out of the box beside Sam and pulled a chair up to the bed. 

 

"Why? I mean, it was your suggestion." Sam uncovered his face and tucked his good elbow beneath him, propping himself up. 

 

"Look at how she hurt you, man." Dean picked up his hand and slapped his knee. He picked up the spool of plaster and unwound it, just so he wouldn't have to look at him during this part of the conversation. "I screwed up. I let myself get caught, tied up. And you..." Dean breathed in and sighed. "You paid for my mistakes. Now you're all busted up. Can't do nothin' with ya." Dean fronted a fake smile and chanced a glance at his baby brother who was watching intently. 

 

Sam half shrugged with his left shoulder, a pout forming as he scrunched up his nose. "Doesn't bother me. You get hurt all the time." 

 

Dean stood to go to the mini-kitchen, running the tap long enough to fill the tray and sat back down. He laid the pre-cut strips in the water and waited. 

 

"Not like this, Sammy. T-this is bad, man." Dean focused on his hands before looking back up, and Sam watched his features soften, his eyes glistening at the admittance of defeat. "I coulda' lost you tonight." 

 

Sam snicked. "Is that what that was about?" Sam raised a (broken) finger and pointed between them. 

 

"Y-I mean, no." Dean shook his head. "Not really." 

 

Sam laid back and raised his left knee, hissing. "Then what is it? How come you never told me?" 

 

Dean pulled the blanket back from Sam's leg and avoided his eyes to roam closer to his crotch. Dean reached into the pail and took out the first strip, laying it flat across Sam's thigh, closest to his knee. The strip was cold and Sam hissed at the feeling. 

 

"Dunno. Wish I did. I've seen you hurt a hundred times. It uh-" he ran his fingers down the cold plaster, smoothing out the strip before laying another farther from Sam's knee. "It never gets any easier. Tonight, I just-" Dean cleared his throat. "I thought I was gonna lose you for sure. I really don't wanna talk about this, Sammy." 

 

Sam laid his hand down on Dean's, his finger brushing the knuckles reassuringly. 

 

"It's okay, Dean. Keep talkin'." Sam sat up to watch the disturbed look spread across Dean's face. "No one's here to judge. It's just you and me. No one to laugh at your 'chick flick moment.'" 

 

Dean shook off Sam's hold on his hand and laid another plaster piece closer to the cock he wanted to touch. Taste. Feel. It was agonizing. The closer he got, the more he wanted to brush the back of his knuckles across the soft, pliant, flesh. 

 

_God,_ he needed a drink. 

 

So he abandoned his task immediately, walked to his duffle and pulled out the whiskey. He was gonna need more than his normal two fingers, so he for-went the glass and snapped the cap off. He took a long, 6 second pull and hissed as the warm amber liquid sunk into his stomach. 

 

He set it on the bedside table and smoothed out more of the plaster on Sam's leg. 

 

"When you were 16, and we were after that ghoul in Mississippi. D'you remember?" The whiskey loosened his tongue as he pulled another dripping piece out of the container, laying it flat on Sam's inner thigh. When Dean's fingers got too close, Sam closed his eyes and inhaled sharply. "The thing threw you across the room. Literally. And..." Dean chuckled a bit, ignoring Sam. "You broke your arm. Remember?" 

 

"Fondly. Especially since you drew dicks on my cast in pink sharpie. " Sam murmured sarcastically, opening his eyes to watch Dean's fingers splay across the thin layer on his skin. 

 

"Do you remember how it got to you? Why it threw you?" Dean put another piece on the underside of his thighs, ignoring the feel of Sam's taunt muscles under his fingertips. 

 

"Yeah?" Sam thought back and rolled his eyes. "You went to save the girl he had hostage." 

 

"Yeah." Dean spoke flatly, uncapping the whiskey again, taking a few chugs. Sam watched his adam's apple bob as he swallowed, wanting to latch his mouth on the small expanse of skin waiting there. 

 

"And the Rugaru in Wisconsin? The blood sucker in Montana? The millions others of countless times I've fucked up and you paid the price? You-" Dean sighed, sipping the liquid from the bottle. He returned his attention to Sam's leg, wrapping the bandage around his leg and smoothing it out with his palm. Sam's thigh and his knee were almost all the way covered, save his inner thigh, closest to Sam's slowly-filling cock. Dean took a visible gulp and pulled the last bandage out and laying it gently across the last bit of Sam's exposed flesh. 

 

"You deserve better than me, kiddo. Someone who will always be there for _you,_ and you alone. Not someone who takes risks with your life," Dean smoothed the plaster and watched in awe as Sam's head tipped back and his mouth dropped open. A silent moan trapped in Sam's throat as Dean worshipped the warm flesh beneath his hand, running it smoothly to his inner thigh, closer, closer... _closer._ Dean's jaw dropped as he took in the utterly **blissful** way Sam's eyes shuttered closed, his fists tightened and his tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip. "Not someone who can't give you everything you need." Sam's eyes were instantly on him. Dean lowered his fingers to smooth out the plaster nearest Sam's balls and Dean felt a hand on his neck. 

 

Sam tugged him closer, placing a hand on Dean's on his thigh. 

 

"Not someone who chooses a stranger over his own flesh and blood." Dean spoke quietly, a whisper as he fought the urge to pull away, get away, before he couldn't anymore. Before Sam did something he might regret. 

 

Sam tugged him closer, still. His hand sliding up the wrinkled flesh of his balls, eliciting a small gasp. Sam was pulling him, his hand, his neck, pulling him closer until he could feel Sam's shuttering breath on his slick lips. Sam's breath filled Dean's nose and his auburn eyes glistened with nothing but love and adoration. and it _hurt_ Dean to no end, knowing he'd caused so much pain, and forced anything but a smile on his baby brother's beautiful face. 

 

"Not your own brother, the one that swore to take care of yo-." Dean whispered, continuing his monologue until Sam pulled him in, connecting their lips for the third time that night. 

 

Sam was sweet, his lips taunt and yielding to Dean's. His grip on Dean's hand tightened, raising it to his erection and forming a circle around his leaking head. Sam squeezed lightly causing Dean to squeeze, too and a moan left Sam's lips only to be swallowed by Dean's tongue. A pool of pre-come formed at the top and Sam moved their entwined hands to guide against it, slicking Dean's hand against the burning silk of Sam's flesh. 

 

When Dean's fingers began moving of their own accord, their lips began moving quickly and urgently. Sam moved his hand from Dean's and placed it on his older brother's neck. Dean shifted, a subtle tilt of his head until he could reach more of Sam. He lifted himself from his seat without stopping his movements, _'god, I don't think I can ever stop touching him now that I know how he feels',_ he scrambles closer, jacking Sam slow and tight until he reached the tip, twisting his wrist. He slotted himself between Sam's spread legs to get more of Sam's tongue, _sweet jesus,_ that sinful **_fucking_** tongue, moaning unashamedly as it fucked in and out of Dean's mouth. 

 

When Dean finally separated for breath, he rests his forehead against Sam's. When he finally pulls back, he gets to look into those eyes that are totally lost by now. Dean gets a little dizzy because he's doing this. this is happening. He just kissed Sam. His Sammy. His little baby brother. 

 

"A-are you.." Dean doesn't stop fisting his hand over Sam's length, making Sam's back arch and his fingers flex his sharp nails into Dean's back. "Okay with this?" 

 

Sam huffs a quick, breathless chuckle. "Not really." 

 

Dean pulls back, begins to pull his hand away with an apologetic look on his face, starting to process a way to start begging forgiveness and Sam quickly pulls his arm back. "Not that, idiot." Sam plucks at the back of Dean's shirt. "This. I'm not okay with you still being dressed. I _am_ naked, you know." 

 

Dean exhales slowly. 

 

"You're an asshole." Dean quips, his voice gravel-rough, as he leans up, rucking up the bottom of his shirt and slipping it over his head. After he chucks it across the room, he no longer has any idea of what to do without some kind of direction. How far does Sam want to take this? Does Sam even want... 

 

"Touch me." Sam commands gently, gripping his fingers behind Dean's back and pulling him close. "Please, Dean. Please. I mean it." Their faces are so close, Dean can feel Sam's words on his skin. He dives in gently, capturing Sam's lips again as Sam bucks his hips up into the air, now able to put force on his bad leg now that the plaster is dry. Sam rolls his body, lighting a fire inside Dean at every moment of skin-on-skin contact. Dean supports himself on his elbows and lowers his knees to the bed, rolling his hips into Sam's cock. Sam throws his head back in a moan, and commands again. 

 

"Touch me." Dean cups Sam’s face in his large palm and kisses under his jaw, grinding his denim hips into Sam’s, making him hiss. 

 

“Take these off.” He tugged at the waistband of his jeans and returned the light kisses to Dean’s jaw, feverishly scraping his nails down his older brother’s shoulder blades. 

 

“Hold up, Princess.” Dean stopped and raised himself on his arms to look at Sam. “We should talk first.” 

 

“Seriously? Mr. Playboy-of-the-year wants to talk before getting his dick wet?” Sam chuckled, running his fingers through his unkempt hair. 

 

“Exactly.” Dean raised his eyes to Sam’s and chuckled, sitting up at the edge of the bed. “This isn’t just “getting my dick wet”, Sammy. This is a big deal to me. We’ve had a rough night, you’re still stoned and I-“ Dean sighed, rolling his eyes. He couldn’t believe he was about to say this. What the hell was he thinking? “I think we’re rushing things.” 

 

“ _Rushing_ things? Dean, how are we rushing things?” 

 

“This- this is big. We just found out that this-“ he used his finger to point between them both. “-is mutual and I don’t wanna go screwin’ it up cause we can’t keep a lid on it.” 

 

“Listen, I’m all for that. I get it.” Sam sat up and dragged the cast up with him, wincing. “but we’re not rushing things. Dean, you’re not some bar fly I took home when I was bored and lonely. You’re my brother and-“ 

 

“I know, I know. It’s wrong and-“ 

 

“Would you let me finish for Christ’s sake?!?” 

 

"Say your piece." Dean rolled over onto his back and readjusted himself in his jeans. _'Me and my big mouth.'_ Dean wished that if there were a way to tell your brain to shut the hell up, he'd do that exactly now. The whiskey didn't do a great job of it. 

 

"I've never done this before. With a guy, I mean. But there's one solidary reason why I've remained abstinent. And that's because I was holding out on someone I didn't think I'd ever be allowed to have." 

 

Dean looked puzzled. 

 

"You, dummy." Sam chuckled lightheartedly. 

 

"You've never-" Dean sat up. "With a guy? Ever?" 

 

"No, I haven't." Sam tucked his hair back behind his ears. Dean rolled over and balanced himself on his elbow, careful of his blackened eye. 

 

"Then how are you so sure that this is what you want?" Dean tried not to be condescending, but he was his big brother after all. And even if that meant making Sam see that maybe he wasn't the right person for him, he'd sacrifice that for Sam's happiness. Forever the martyr. 

 

"How do you?" Sam took in a deep breath and his rib ached in response. "Dean, it's always been us. You, me, and dad versus the world. And now that dad's gone? We're all we have left. And after what we've been through, I didn't think that was going to be enough. But no one else would understand what we've been through. No one else would be there for us with the every day peril that we get ourselves into. The fact that the universe is choosing now, of all times, to bring us together is what I'm wondering. If I could choose anyone to spend the rest of my life with, rather it's on the road eating our way down route 66, or retiring at the young age of 45. I’m not meant to be with anyone else. It's you, man. It's always been you." 

 

"That's what I needed to hear.” Dean rolled over and rested his head against Sam’s forehead, breathing him in. “You sure you don’t want to take some time? Sleep on it?” 

 

“I’ve been sleeping on it for 10 years.” Sam looked down to his renewed interest throbbing between his legs and smiled. “I’m more than sure.”


	3. Irony is a Bitch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised. Sex! 
> 
> Also, as for my hiatus, I was a little more rusty than I thought it would be. The sex scene took me about 10 hours to write, whereas previously, I could crank one out in under an hour. Hopefully it turned out alright. Hope you guys enjoy and I'll see you next time! :)

Dean captured Sam's lips once again with his own, bound and determined that there were no more misguided thoughts, no more stopping himself from giving his brother exactly what he needed. The kiss became heated, Sam was darting his tongue alongside Dean’s, curling it to caress and pulling it back. Sam’s good hand roamed across the expanse of his brother’s naked back, digging his nails in when Dean inched closer. Dean crawled to him, encasing himself over Sam’s larger frame and brought his hand to Sam’s cheek. Sam moaned in response to Dean bucking his denim hips into the sensitive flesh of Sam’s pelvis, but the friction was just not enough. 

 

Sam broke the kiss long enough to breathe the word “Off.” While tugging on his waistband and devoured Dean’s mouth once again. 

 

Dean snapped the clasp with practiced ease, fumbling with the zipper. He was entirely too excited, the taste of Sam on his tongue, the feeling of his soft toned skin under his fingertips, it’s these thoughts that made him shake. 

 

“Let me.” Sam smirked and slapped Dean’s hand away, pulling the zipper down for him. Sam’s hands immediately slipped around the waistband of his boxers and palmed the firm globes of his ass, pulling him closer, helping him rub Sam’s tender skin. He slipped the clothing down, and Dean’s engorged cock finally breathed, Sam couldn’t help but take hold of it just to feel the girth of the rigid skin. 

 

"Your hands feel so good, Sammy." Sam slicked his hand with the dripping precome and twisted it to the shaft, rolling Dean's warm balls in his palm, eliciting a breathy moan from his older brother. 

 

"It'll feel better once you get inside me." Sam tilted his hips up and lined Dean's cock with his hole, rubbing the spongy head against the puckered entrance. 

 

"Don't you wanna-" Dean pressed kisses breathlessly down the expanse of Sam's neck. "Warm up a little?" 

 

"I don't know." Sam gasped. "I've never done this before, remember?" 

 

"I'll see what I can do." Dean lowered his focus to lay a kiss down Sam's clavicle, down each rib, down to his left hip and ventured even lower with each impatient gasp Sam attempted to stop from coming out. Dean tongued the head, swirling as much saliva around the tip as possible before lowering himself to take a swipe at Sam's balls. Sam gripped the sheets until his knuckles were white, aborted babble balancing on the tip of his tongue. 

 

“F-fuck, Dean. That just-“ Sam took a gasping breath. “Feels so good.” 

 

Dean kitten licked the sensitive underside, loving the sounds Sam was making. He dared to inch lower with every swipe until he reached Sam’s hole, wondering what his reaction would be. _‘Fuck it. Go big or go home.’_ he told himself as he flattened his tongue and pressed it to Sam’s hole, starting from the bottom and working his way up. He slipped his hand up and firmly grasped the shaft of Sam’s cock, stroking agonizingly slow, savoring the feeling of the slick, taunt flesh between his fingertips. 

 

Sam couldn’t breathe; couldn’t form a coherent sentence to save his life right now. The pure ecstasy of the act lit a fire in his ribcage he hadn’t felt before. The need to feel even closer to Dean emboldened his voice, now shouts of curse words and exclamations. His abs jutted in and out with each labored breath as Dean fixed his ministrations on the puckered entrance, darting his tongue and slipping past the first ring of muscles. 

 

Dean raised his left hand, grabbing Sam’s ass cheek before pulling his face back to admire the sight before him. Sam’s hole was gleaming with spit and he smeared it around, spreading what he could against his hole before applying pressure. His finger slipped in with ease to the first knuckle and he knew the rest would need a little bit more work. He tongued the skin around his finger, easing his way in ever so gently. He twisted his fingers and pushed lightly, not wanting to force his way in. He lifted the cast, exposing more of Sam so that he had more room to work, digging his tongue and finger in deeper, listening to Sam's guttural pleading and pointed breath for signs of pain. 

 

"Fuck, Dean. That feels so good." Sam slid his hand down to grasp the back of Dean's head, clenching his hair and pushing him farther over the edge. Dean nudged his finger in and curled upwards, feeling for the spongy prostate. He knew he had found it when Sam's voice suddenly became bellows, punched out with every word. 

 

"Jesus Christ! Oh my god, Dean. Oh my god. Please-" Sam gripped a tighter hold on Dean's hair. "Don't- don't stop." 

 

Hearing Sam like this was like scratching an itch he didn’t know he’d had. It was like finding the only thing that ever mattered to you. Dean continued, stroking the muscle in earnest, pushing himself up on his elbows to capture Sam's cock in his mouth, taking him in down to the root. He pulled his finger out long enough to line up another one while he sucked on the crown, pumping precome into his mouth. He had expected it to taste gross, but if he was honest, it was silky and salty and bitter and sweet, but also so inherently _Sam._ Sam let out these abortive little noises when Dean found his prostate once again and that fueled Dean to just suck harder, suck his cheeks in, watch his teeth. He twisted his fingers as he pumped them in and out of his brother, using his other hand to pump what was left of the shaft his mouth couldn't reach. 

 

"Dea- Dean, please. Please, I'm not going to last much longer. I need you." Sam stuttered, pausing between to take heaving breaths. Dean carefully pulled his fingers out, leaving Sam feel empty and open. With one more slow stroke to Sam's cock, he pushed himself up and met Sam's moist eyes. Their lips crashed, tongue and teeth, slippery wet heat that caused goosebumps along their arms, made their knees weak and all the more anxious for what was about to happen. 

 

"You ready for this?" Dean nipped his way along Sam's neck, rubbing his cock alongside Sam's, eliciting a sharp gasp from the younger Winchester. 

 

"So fucking ready." 

 

"Good." Dean licked the shell of Sam's ear and spoke in a whisper. "'Cause I wanna fuckin' tear you apart." 

 

Dean sat back on his haunches and carefully lifted Sam's legs to his shoulders. He bumped his cock against Sam's willing entrance and could feel the heat emanating from it. He settled there, circling the head to let Sam get used to it before adding slight pressure. Dean bucked his hips gently, letting the fat head of his cock be enveloped by the tight hot velvet walls and let his head fall back in a groan. 

 

"So fucking tight, Sammy." Dean leaned down and captured Sam's lips once again, circling his hips and adding delicate insistence. Sam groaned in a mix of pain/pleasure, only to have his sound swallowed by his brother, and Sam thrusted his hips up to take more of Dean in. It felt so good, so fast, so eager to become one with the one person he wanted almost his whole life. Dean pushed the last bit in and worshipped this feeling of being fully incased inside his little brother. Dean raised his hand and cupped Sam's cheek, looking deep into those bright burnt auburn eyes. 

 

Dean gingerly pulled out, thrusting forward with uneasiness, watching his brother's features for comfort levels. Sam's face wasn't pinched in pain, but open and blissed, his mouth open with the clipped moan caught in his throat. Dean pumped in, feeling the rich drag against the tight muscle and let out euphoric moan, leaning down to caress Sam's shoulders, leaving light kisses in his wake. 

 

"Feels so good, Dean. Your cock feels so wonderful." Sam palmed Dean's shoulder blades, digging his nails into the slick flesh before taking one hand to palm his ignored member, tugging in tight bursts. Dean pushed himself farther in, pumping slowly. "Oh fuck! **Dean.** You feel so fuckin' good. Faster, Dean! Fuck me!" 

 

Dean obeyed. His hips began to gain momentum, the slick friction driving him crazy as he dug his fingers into the bed sheets. Dean's gravel rough moan rocked Sam to the core and made his grip on his cock all that much tighter, faster, wetter. Sam felt himself throb with the pitter-patter of his heartbeat, thumbing the nerve on the underside, making him see stars behind his eyes. Sam's vision turned white as Dean nailed his prostate, hammering into it as Sam felt the first spurts of hot come hit his chest. He let out a powerful moan and kissed Dean, entwining their tongues. 

 

"Think you can come again for me, baby?" 

 

Sam let out a lighthearted chuckle. "I can," Sam heaved through shaking breath, "-if you keep callin' me that." 

 

Dean bowed to tongue Sam's earlobe, blowing cold air on the wet skin while he fucked into the tight wet heat of his brother. "Oh yeah? That turn you on, baby?" 

 

Sam palmed his cock, finding it to be slowly renewing interest, twisting his hold at the head as Dean crashed into his sweet spot over and over again. "Fuck me, Dean. Feels so fucking good." 

 

Dean renewed his vigor, continuously chasing the ecstasy that would bring him over the edge. Sam reached out with his left hand and pressed his fingers into the fleshy globes of Dean's firm ass, pulling him into him as fast as he could. Their pelvis' clashed with the erotic sound of skin hitting skin, and Dean could feel his balls tighten, his head swimming with the perfect feeling of filling his brother. 

 

"I'm gonna come, Sammy. Think you can come with me, baby?" 

 

"Y-yeah," Sam grasped his balls, pulling them taunt before returning his attention back on his head, smearing the precome down the shaft. "Wanna come inside me?" 

 

"Would you like me to?" Dean wiped a drop of sweat rolling down his forehead with the back of his hand, and felt himself throb, making Sam tighten his muscles. 

 

"So fucking hot. I just want you to come, baby. Come inside me. Fill me up." Sam gasped, teetering himself over the edge, balancing between coming for a second time and focusing on feeling Dean throb and expand inside of him. 

 

Dean lowered himself, pumping harder and faster into his baby brother, chasing his release. Sam shuttered, the goosebumps formed along his arms as he felt himself tense. "I'm coming!" 

 

"Fuck, Sammy, yeah, that's it. I'm gonna come!" Dean growled, quick, short bursts filling Sam as Sam's cock streaked both their chests, and a feeling of superlative bliss washed over him in an overwhelming wave crashing onto a taboo shore. They breathed each other in, exhaustive rapture overcoming them. Dean pressed a light kiss to Sam's shoulder and pulled him closer, nuzzling himself into the sweaty stretch of his neck. Dean huffed out a breath, feeling his muscles relax and unwind. He begrudgingly shifted to pull himself out of his brother's abused hole, taking a moment to breathe in the scent of sex, sweat and Sammy. 

 

When his shoulders demanded release, he rolled over. He tucked his head under Sam's arms and listened quietly to the thundering heartbeat echoing in his ears. There was nothing he would change this moment, nothing he wouldn't do to keep doing it, and nothing he wouldn't do for the man holding him in his arms. They had admitted that they would be together from now on. 

 

Hadn't they? 

 

"Hey, Sammy?" 

 

Dean looked up when Sam denied a response and he found his exhausted baby brother sound asleep, gentle light breaths and a smile on his face. 

 

Guess they would talk about whatever this was tomorrow. But right here, right now? He would enjoy being wrapped up in the love of the one person he cared about in this fucked up thing they called a life. Dean Winchester, ladie's man, now a kept partner by none other than his own little brother. 

 

Irony is a bitch, huh? 

 

.END.


End file.
